All Chapters of My Ex-Husband's Greatest Regret: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Tyson I had the western courtyard cleared out within ten minutes flat.No spare guards hovering around the benches, no enforcers running tactical drills, no stray eyes watching her every move. Just the tall stone wall covered in climbing ivy, the crisp morning wind whistling through the pines, and three hay bale targets set up against the far timber fence. It wasn't far—just around the corner from the private rear terrace—so Rosemarie wouldn't have to strain her legs or tire herself out.The second our boots hit the grass, though, it was like I ceased to exist all over again.Rosemarie walked right past me, her thick woolen coat swishing against her knees, both hands firmly wrapped around Leo's small shoulders. She guided the kid toward the wooden equipment bench, adjusting the knit scarf around his neck, tucking his stray dark curls under his cap, murmuring soft warnings about not running too close to the gravel border."Make sure you keep your gloves on, Leo, the air is cold out he

For three days, the Blackwood pack house felt less like an Alpha's seat and more like an abandoned tomb.Tracy paced across the floor of the master sitting room, her heels clicking in a rhythm that echoed off the empty walls. The silence in the mansion was practically deafening. There were no booming shouts from Rex demanding reports, no council elders arguing in the grand study, and no crying brat scurrying down the corridors.The house was empty. Completely and deserted.Where the hell is everyone? Tracy thought, running her manicured nails through her styled hair, her teeth grinding together in frustration. I was supposed to have Rex wrapped around my little finger by now. I was supposed to be picking out silk drapes for the Luna suite and having those pompous elders kiss the ground I walk on.Instead, the man she was supposed to manipulate had vanished into thin air. Rex hadn't slept in his bed, hadn't answered his private line, and hadn't shown his face in the pack offices. Even

Rex Every tick of the ornate grandfather clock in the corner of the guest parlor felt like a nail being hammered into my coffin.I leaned my forehead against the cold windowpane, staring out at the high perimeter walls of the Carrillo estate. Beyond those gates lay the dense, pine-covered ridges separating the northern territory from my lands. But inside this fortress, I was nothing more than a glorified prisoner of war.Tyson was stronger than me. It tasted like bitter, burning bile to admit it, but lying to myself wouldn't change reality. In terms of brute territorial power and pack discipline, Carrillo outmatched me. We had an agreement—an uneasy, unspoken truce sealed over whiskey in his study, where we swore not to spill each other's blood in front of Rosemarie and the boy. We promised to let her decide our fates without claws tearing out throats.So why the hell is he still keeping me locked in this wing? I thought, my hands clenching into tight fists until my broken knuckles s

RexThe tires of my truck screamed in protest as I tore through the gates of the Blackwood pack hospital, slamming the transmission into park so violently the chassis rocked on its axles.I didn't care about turning off the engine. I didn't care about the pair of tired scouts who had trailed behind me in the second vehicle. I kicked the door open, hit the pavement running, and burst through the sliding glass doors of the intensive care wing.The smell of sterile bleach, rubbing alcohol, and copper washed over me like a suffocating wave."Alpha Rex!" the head nurse gasped from behind the reception desk, dropping her clipboard as she took in my disheveled state—the torn collar, the dried blood on my jaw, and the wild, sleep-deprived fury burning in my eyes."Where is she?" I demanded, my voice dropping into a guttural Alpha rasp that rattled the plastic pen cup on her counter. "Where is my mother?!""Room 402, Alpha. Dr. Finch is inside now, but—"I didn't wait to hear the rest. I took

RosemarieWhen the sharp, blunt question dropped from Tyson's mouth, I didn't break down. I didn't flinch, and I didn't let the bitter sting of the past pull me under the ice again.Instead, a quiet, knowing smile touched my lips.I looked up at Tyson, the winter wind catching a stray strand of hair across my cheek. He was watching me like an Alpha bracing for a storm, his jaw rigid, waiting for me to shatter or spit fire over the reminder of that agonizing afternoon in the hospital corridor."You think that surprises me, Tyson?" I asked, my voice carrying a soft, grounded calmness that caught him off guard. "Leo is seven years old. He's just a little boy. For months, Helen and Tracy fed him poison disguised as sweets. They gave him bitter pills of me every single day, whispering in his ear that his sick mother didn't love him, that I was lazy, that I abandoned him because he wasn't strong enough. When a child is surrounded by manipulation like that, of course he turned. He was terrif